


And On The First Day

by yuh14



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Angel Crowley (Good Omens), Angst, The Sun Will Shine On Us Again, gabriel is a motherfucker, i dont want to go, i know its bad, i wrote this in 0.2 seconds please dont kill me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-06-23 19:38:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19708081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuh14/pseuds/yuh14
Summary: In a pool of his own blood, the angel was falling. And he could hear hell calling him.





	And On The First Day

**Author's Note:**

> "the sun will shine on us again" is such a harrowing line and my favourite from the mcu and it just ! felt like something aziraphale would say ! also davids regeneration has haunted me for 9 years and it just Seemed Right. hope you like it :)
> 
> also i havent edited it yet so enjoy that too oop

“Aziraphale!”

Uncertainty. Desperation. Fear.

Crowley was running as fast as he could, his heart drumming in his ears. The continuous stream of thoughts intruding his mind were too many, cancelling each other out and leaving him in a static void of nothing. All he wanted was to hold his best friend one more time before…

All he did was ask questions.

He hadn’t done anything wrong.

He wasn’t a bad person…

Was he?

Crowley felt sick, guilt forcing its ugly way up his throat in the form of a wracking cry, “Aziraphale, where are you?” His head felt on the verge of rupture, the world around him, Heaven, spinning. His knees gave out beneath him, the cold, polished floor providing no solace. The walls were closing in. His wings curled up around his retreating figure, his body seemingly imploding in on itself. His screwed shut eyes open for a moment and his chest hollows.

Black feathers.

There were black feathers appearing in his wings and he couldn’t stop them. His jaw set, fear completely consuming him. In a panic, he reached a hand up, grasping firmly a black feather in his palm.

He ripped it out.

He ripped it out with such an animosity and desperation that the cry released from his mouth sounded almost like a wounded lion. But as quickly as that one was removed, two more sprung. His head was empty, his eyes blinking with a confused distress. His breathing and his pulse were all he could hear as he screamed, reaching out once again and dismembering himself ferociously. In a pool of his own blood, the angel was falling. And he could hear hell calling him, the screams of the damned taunting him, and it felt like a hand had intruded his chest and had taken a hold of his heart, squeezing and squeezing and squeezing and squeezing-

“Crowley?” A voice broke through, one that would usually so gently and delicately untie the knots in Crowley’s anxious chest now striking the coldest fear in him, “Oh, _Crowley_ ,” It came again, this time shaking.

It was shaking with realisation and pain and _fear_. Aziraphale darted to his best friend’s side, the picture before him absolutely terrifying. Crowley was on the floor, his wings barren. Blood on his hands and on the floor and on his wings and oh _God_. Aziraphale knelt beside Crowley, taking him into his arms.

“Zira?” Crowley whispered, the ghost of a smile on his lips. He was tired, so, so tired. Aziraphale couldn’t respond, he didn’t know how. All he could do was feel, and all he could feel was grief. He’d always thought that he was lucky to be an angel up in Heaven, not having to deal with whatever was going on downstairs; but he was so wrong. His best friend, his only friend, was falling right in front of him and he could do nothing to stop it.

“I’m here, Crowley,” He whispered, trying his damndest to mimic the expression on his friend’s face, but failing. The falling reached up for a final time, touching his angel’s face. It was almost serene, until the blood he left in his wake reminded him.

Crowley tensed, latching onto Aziraphale’s robe with such a desperation and fear that Aziraphale was sure he would never forget the scene in front of him.

“I don’t want to go,” Crowley sputtered out, his eyes glassed over and scared.

He hushed Crowley, “The sun will shine on us again, I promise.”

And with that, Crowley was gone. He had fallen. And while Aziraphale was left to sob into the blood of his best friend, Gabriel approached.

“Why are you crying, angel? The first day is approaching, are you not excited?”

Aziraphale looked up, distraught and confused, then back down. The floor was clean. Aziraphale smiled.

_Except he did._

“Oh, yes! I must continue my preparations! Thank you, Gabriel!” The angel scurried off to where he needed to be, forgetting what had just happened.

Forgetting Crowley.

\--

Eden is beautiful, trees lush and wildlife plentiful. Aziraphale closes his eyes, drawing in a gracious breath.

Crowley’s breath is stolen, realisation setting in.

And on the first day, the sun shone over the Garden of Eden.


End file.
